Aftershock
by AliveAgain-33
Summary: The hellish memories were still unbearably strong. Reflections of Ziva's time in Somalia and the aftermath no one saw.
1. Mirror

**Author's note: **Reviews/constructive criticism are much appreciated. I don't own anything (unfortunately).

The surrounding darkness was a welcome comfort, as if it allowed her a hiding place where nothing could touch her. Turning to scrutinize herself in the mirror, she winced at the sight that met her. Deep pink slash marks marred her richly tan back. The lines ran all the way from her shoulders to vanish beneath the waist of her jeans. Unwelcome hot tears stung her eyes at the memories.

_Silver blades flashed in the sunlight as they bit into her flesh. __Her body lay heaved on the floor, crimson streams flowing from a hundred biting gashes. Her interrogators had long since stripped her of any scrap of clothing. She painfully sank her teeth into her lip to stop the flood of building tears and forced herself to swallow a scream. Not from the pain. That wasn't the worst. It was what they had done._

_Ziva let out a choked sob as Salim began to slide the knife slowly down her thigh. Starting with the inside, he let the blade trail after his fingertips as they worked admiringly over her skin. Golden desert sunlight poured in through the tiny windows. It was a deceptively beautiful evening; it almost always was. He spat out a name in Arabic that made Ziva wince internally. The man loomed above her, his gaze taunting, teasing, mocking. Wanting. He laughed lightly. A rough shove with his foot turned her onto her back again, the toe of his boot digging into her bruised and fractured ribs. When she looked up, a painfully familiar sadistic smirk met her, dripping with lust._

Cold air rushed into her lungs as her eyes snapped open again. Her recollection still remained far too strong. Each time she let her eyelids fall closed, her torturer was there, staring back at her. Taunting her. Playing with her.

Her back looked as if a cat-o-nine-tails had been taken to it. Except her skin was still in place. She shook her head roughly in an attempt to dispel the horrifying, nightmarish memories. They were still unbearably strong. For a moment longer, they left her frozen as her mind slowly worked back to the present. The feeling of being used, the filthy dirt that seemed to penetrate her soul crushed her, stole her breath if she allowed herself to linger on them for too long. No matter how hard she'd tried, nothing could wash them away.

On the outside, it appeared as if nothing had changed. But Ziva had been trained to lie convincingly, given the ability to make anyone believe whatever she wanted them to. On the outside, she was perfect. On the inside, scars remained that might not ever fully heal.


	2. Betrayal

A torrent of rain pounded the roof in the ebony night like a million drums. Ziva's fists collided with her desk, sending a shockwave of objects bouncing off metal resounding through the deserted bullpen. Angry, bitter, wounded tears stung her eyes as she fought to keep them from spilling over. The sudden sense of isolation nearly stole her breath as it crashed over her; she was alone.

Her father had betrayed her. He had sent her on a suicide mission; it hadn't mattered that it would cost his own daughter her life. She had been raised as a heartless killer, so she obeyed. "The mission, the Mossad, will always matter more to you, yes?" Her voice came out in little more than a pained whisper.

Ambitions of the Mossad had laced her dreams since she was a child. From the very beginning, Eli David had brought up his children to be his pawns, the sharpest weapons in his lethal arsenal. '_He said the mission is to be completed at any cost.'_ Ben-Gidon's words rang through her head, only further serving as a reminder. Fists clenched and nails dug sharply into her palms. She had been nothing more than a tool he had wielded to achieve his desires. _'You are the sharp end of the spear, Ziva.' _

"You betrayed me." She had no one; she was alone. In her mind's eye, names and faces flashed before her. Hot, burning tears trickled down her cheeks. "Everyone I love has betrayed me."

"I'll never betray you." Startled, she snapped her head up at the familiar voice. Rare melancholy painted his features.

"Tony-" Reaching out, he gently guided Ziva to her feet and slipped his arms around her. His breath was warm on her neck as he whispered in her ear.

"Never again. I'll always have your back, Zi. I promise." He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

In all her life, Ziva had never felt safer than in that moment as Tony held her. Life had been wrought with shattered trust and betrayal. Now, she could finally learn to breathe again, learn to let herself feel again. Slowly, the walls were crumbling.

"I know," she replied. "And I will always have yours."


	3. Thunder and Obsidian

**Author's note:** Sorry this took so long. Life got in the way and nothing I came up with seemed good enough to post. (Complete type A perfectionist ) I'll try and update much more frequently - I promise - but I can't guarantee anything. *crosses fingers* I'll probably repost the series later after I'm done and put them in chronological order, but for now it's just as they pop into my head. As always, enjoy and please feel free to review.

* * *

Icy rain poured down around her as she ran. Thunder crashed in the distance, though lightening had yet to make an appearance. She sucked in a ragged breath as recollections crashed over her again, her chest burning with the effort. She had pushed herself to the very edge of her limits and beyond them, physically and mentally exhausted, but she couldn't allow herself to stop. Ziva let her eyes drift shut as she turned her face towards the sky.

Roughly yanking off her jacket and tying around her hips, she allowed the rain to soak her through to the bone. Needing to forget. Needing to feel. The sharp, unrelenting sting of the torrent on her bare skin made her feel alive again. It felt so inexplicably good.

The nightmare refused to release her, even after she had started awake screaming. It was a small miracle Tony hadn't woken and began interrogating her about what was wrong. Each night, her mind forced her to watch Salim slaughter every person she cared for, one by one, as they tried in vain to save her.

Suddenly, Salim stood inches in front of her, smirking. The blade in his hand glinted in the moonlight as he raised it toward her throat. Instinctively, Ziva moved to catch his hand and land a fist to his face, but she couldn't move. In a flash, her captor stood behind her; she hadn't seen him twitch a muscle. Eyes shooting wide with fear, she fought against the restrictive arms wrapped securely around her. His grip was like iron.

Golden sunlight poured into the primitive room, soaking into her. Blood seeped from a deep gash on her forehead as she realized where she was.

Somalia.

She had never really escaped.

Salim roughly jerked her head up by her bloodied and matted hair. Hot desert air rushed into her lungs and her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest. Tony's body lay heaved onto the dirt floor where he had fallen, his green orbs still staring back at her, accusing, lifeless. In the doorway, Gibbs leveled his weapon at her captor's head, eyes hard as stone with hate and rage. Without warning, the man who had become her father lay reduced to a heap of dismembered flesh, drowning in a crimson river. Salim smirked sardonically at her, a smile of twisted, sadistic pleasure adorning his features. Ziva could do nothing but watch in horror as McGee, Ducky, and Jenny were tortured to death by the bastard of a man, somehow two places at once.

"You are the reason they are dying," he taunted her, his face nearly touching hers, black eyes boring into her. The terrorist gave a maniacal laugh. "You are worth _nothing_, you Jewish pig," he spat. "Why do they come to rescue you? It is costing them their lives. _you_ are costing them their lives. Their blood is on your head!"

* * *

"Ziva!" Tony screamed, alarmed. "Gosh, don't kill me!"

He was fairly sure her hand wrapped around his arm was precariously close to shattering his wrist, though the nearly mind-numbing pain suddenly shooting up his arm wouldn't be a clue in the slightest. Her other had him in some kind of Israeli Mossad ninja death grip, severely restricting his air supply. Rich brown eyes shot wide in shock as her fingers loosened and slipped down to the sheets again.

"I- I am sorry, Tony."

"_Man_. Remind me to never wake you up again. Or just not sleep in the same bed…" His brow furrowed in apprehension. "Are you all right? You were screaming in Hebrew and then sounded like you were crying."

"Nightmare," she managed to deadpan, struggling to keep from falling apart. He nodded.

"Do you wanna talk?" She shook her head stubbornly. Foolishly taking his life into his own hands again, Tony reached out and placed a hand lovingly on her bare shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine at his warm touch. "Are you sure?"

"_Ken._" Obsidian orbs met viridian in the darkness, challenging, strong. Tormented.

"Ziva-"

"I am all right. It was simply a dream, Tony." Something in her hard, resolute tone told him she was attempting to convince herself more than the man interrogating her. "There is nothing to discuss."

A weighted sigh rushed from her lungs. She wanted to desperately to tell him. That alone sent icy fear through her; she had never liked being vulnerable, hadn't allowed herself the chance to so much as let her walls down.

"_No_, I do not wish to talk about it and _yes_, I am quite certain, Tony" she snapped.

Her words hung in silence for what seemed like hours, her unconscious cries still ringing through his head. They exploded off the walls of mind like a bullet fired in a mettle container, each pass rending his hemorrhaging heart further open at her explicit distress. She fixed him with a death glare, hopping against all odds to alienate him. She'd let Tony get far too close, allowed herself to become far too attached.

Ziva's eyes were obsidian. _Is your soul that black too? Is that what you really believe?_ The thought sent a fresh stab of pain into the gaping wound. _Why won't you let me help you?_

Finally breaking the silence, his next question caught her off guard.

"Can I hold you?"

"What? Why?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled Ziva to him and wrapped the arm she hadn't been using as a pillow around her midsection. He brushed a soft kiss to her temple.

"Because I need to be close to you. You kept yelling 'Salim' over and over… Demanding he stop." Blinking rapidly, he tried to dispel the stinging tears in his eyes, but they remained in his voice. "I can't stand to see you in pain, Zi." Reflectively, she flicked her gaze downward, not afraid to let him see the surprised tears in her eyes. He forced the next sentence out, not wanting to know, but need to all the same. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing."

Jet black eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn't identify, just as stony as her voice. Ziva flipped onto her side, back to Tony, before he could interrogate her further. Before she shattered completely. Obsidian darkness nearly crushed her, silently ripping the air from her lungs. And at that moment, she realized she was staring into her own soul.


	4. Worth Everything

She wanted to die. Every fiber she possessed ached with a weariness she never knew a soul could endure. Three and a half months of torture, isolation, and bitter hatred had left their scars on the once valiant Mossad officer. In truth, she was already gone. Death's icy grip had gradually begun to extract the life that still burned within her the moment Eli David had furnished her orders. Now only a few weakly glowing embers remained of that light.

She'd entertained the idea of simply ending it herself. But she knew that if she did, that meant Salim had won. And she couldn't bring herself to allow that bastard claim victory - for everything she had spent her life warring against to triumph. Ziva refused to surrender. Stubborn pride alone had kept her alive all these months. Oh, it would be so easy to let herself quietly slip away in this wretched cell...

She deserved to be here.

The knowledge ate away at her like burning acid, crushed her under a weight mightier than any of Salim's blows. This was her justice: a torpid, forsaken, agonizing death in this hellhole at the hands of that vile bastard.

But she was no better than him.

Ziva was a killer, just as he was. Divergent motive, same outcome. They killed for what they believed, the beliefs so deeply and surely rooted within their hearts that they became the cornerstone of their lives. She was a heartless assassin, for the sake of her country, for freedom; Salim murdered ruthlessly for his religion.

This was her justice. This was what she deserved for the choices she had made.

* * *

"Ziva?" Tony half-shouted now. Her eyes snapped to the man in front of her, torn from her thoughts. Expectant silence had replaced the movie they'd been watching in his living room. "Are you ok? What's wrong? "

For what seemed like eternity, she didn't answer. Tossing him an undecipherable look, she shoved herself off the couch and crossed the room to snatch up her jacket, back to him. Soft, red, ancient Chinese patterned silk slipped like water over her fingertips as she grasped the fabric in earnest desperation and panic. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but her body had frozen were she stood. Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked furiously to dispel them. She couldn't allow Tony to witness her tears; she loathed them enough herself when she was alone.

Tony watched, perturbed, as Ziva suddenly stood motionless, morphing into a statue before his eyes. Coming to her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Her muscles immediately went rigid under his touch, the only sign she had jumped.

"Ziva?" Silence. "Tell me," he pleaded, fustily attempting to coax her to face him. "Look at me." Slowly, she pivoted on her heal and met his gaze, chocolate brown orbs hard and defensive. Then, in an instant, the ice melted.

"Why did you come after me?" Her words spilled out in a broken half-whisper. She blinked a few times, desperate to prevent herself from crying.

"What?" His brows knit together in confusion, just as much from surprise as from disbelief at her question.

"You thought I was dead." Her tone hardened along with her eyes again, slipping back into the Mossad officer and soldier she had been all her life. "That makes it even more stupid, but that is not the point." But the walls were breaking now. "Why did you not just leave me in Somalia? Why risk your life, even discard it in a suicide mission, for me?"

"Zi, none of us-"

"Do not tell me you could not bare to live without me," she snapped. "That is not true. You would have found a way to go on with life. You would have eventually forgotten me and moved on. I cannot possibly mean that much to you."

Tony could only stare at her in shock. He felt like she'd struck him, hard. When he finally found his voice, the words came out in a mixture of disbelief and wounded anger, though he somehow found the self-restraint to barely keep from yelling.

"Not mean that much to me? How can you _say_ that?"

"I am an assassin. I have too much blood on my hands..." Ziva shook her head. "I am not worth saving."

"Yes, you are," he insisted. Gingerly, Tony reached up to touch her face, tone softening. Drawing a deep breath, she was startled to see a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

"You are crying? For me?"

"Why don't you understand this? I love you, Ziva. You mean _everything_ us. To the whole team. Especially me. Of _course_ we'd come get you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly silenced her with a kiss. Warmth invading her body made her shiver; she wasn't used to feeling this much from a simple kiss. Maybe not ever.

"I love you too, Tony," she managed, still in shock. It felt so strange to admit it out loud. To admit having allowed someone that close. It went against all her training in the Mossad. But she was no longer an officer.

His hands shook as he combed them through her silky hair and kissed her again. He'd done this countless times before; he couldn't think of a reason why he was so nervous. This time was no different. Except it was. It couldn't be more so. A questioning look at his hesitance rang in her gaze as she met his rich green eyes.

"You're not just another woman," he whispered breathlessly against her skin, mouth trailing kisses down her neck. "You're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don't want to screw this up. And you _are_ worth everything to me. I meant it when I said I couldn't live without you."

Refusing to let her escape, Tony took Ziva's hand, silently asking her to stay. He swallowed convulsively, in an effort to stem the fear welling in the pit of his stomach, making a snap decision for a last-minute change of plans. Viridian orbs rose to meet near obsidian. One last unbelievably sweet kiss gave him the strength to continue. He produced a black velvet box from his back pocket.

"What are you doing?" she queried, a slight panic stealing into her voice.

"Proving it." Sinking to one knee, he revealed flawless princess cut diamond ring. "Ziva David, will you marry me?" A thrilling chill shot through her as her brain registered his words.

"Yes, Tony," she nodded, a dazzling smile blooming on her features. "I will marry you."

Slipping the ring on, he leapt to his feet and rapped his arms around her. She crushed her mouth to his hard, overwhelmed with joy. Forever Tony, he lifted her into the air and spun her in a circle.

"Sorry I didn't do this in a more romantic location," he admitted. his warm breath tickled her neck. "I was gonna take you out to dinner, but now seemed like a more appropriate time." A low, wicked chuckle escaped her.

"That is all right. I would have killed you if you had made a public display, anyway."

Despite herself, streams of tears slipped down her cheeks, but now they were tears of joy. The sense of truly being loved invaded her entire being, like glowing embers, as an indescribable peace settled over her.

_Hacol yihye b'seder._ Everything will be all right.


	5. Tell Me

Fingers dug into the frigid granite countertop in the inky darkness. She fought to drag in a breath, shards of glass ripping through her lungs. No one told her it would feel like this. Like every weight in the world was being slammed into her chest at the same exact moment. Like a fiery hand was reaching down her throat, adorned with a hundred bladed spikes, to rip her insides out, and send the inferno to consume her now shell of a body from within. In a single moment, all her remaining strength fled her body and she collapsed onto the counter.

Striking her forehead sharply on the stone, a sob wrought with the weight of agony tore from her raw throat. Salt on a gaping wound. Rivers of warm tears poured down her cheeks, searing her skin as they alighted on the arms folded before her. Only darkness offered solace now, consumed her to save her from herself.

And him.

The trenches of night guarded her eyes from the evidence they found each time they met her skin. Silence rang in her ears like gunfire. Every nerve in her body still burned from the moment he had stolen everything from her - in a mind-numbingly unbroken chain that all blurred together so four months became a single, infinite moment. Sharpened teeth sank forcefully into her lip. In moments, copper pools filled her mouth, lashed out at her tongue. Anything to stem the insufferable torture. Anything to abate the army of memories slaying her from within. Repulsion swept through her, churning her insides. Bitter bile rose in her throat as her stomach threatened to spill its contents.

"So this is what you've been hiding from me?"

Ziva spun on her heals to find Tony before her. Distress haunted his deep forest irises. Furiously, she wiped away the tears glistening on her cheeks, schooled her startled features in an instant. She loathed showing weakness. Her profession didn't allow for it.

But her eyes betrayed her.

"Did you mean it when you called my a bitch this afternoon?" Breath caught in his throat as a serrated blade pierced his heart at the broken emptiness of her voice. He flinched at the memory, but didn't respond. Drawing a deep, pained breath, she expounded.

"When I snapped at Agent Worth for… playing grab ass. Did you mean it?"

'_You know, I get that you've had one heck of a week, but now you're just being a _bitch_.'_

"No." His eyes narrowed in disbelief at her accusation, indignant. He could never mean something like that, not to _her_. He moved to lessen the cavern gaping between them. "Of course I didn't. I mean, you were kind of melodramatic about it, but I'd never-"

The unreadable expression in her orbs sent his pitiful self-defense slamming to a halt. Diamonds slid unhindered down her cheeks once more, glistening in the moonlight. The sole evidence of the acidic torture hollowing away at her from within. To have Tony, of all people, dismiss her pain so readily, so _callously_… It was more than even she could bear. Lethargically, Ziva nodded in acknowledgement.

"I understand, Tony." Her tear-laced words were soft, though they held a disturbing note of finality amidst the steel-edged brokenness. "You do not want me now that I am broken."

Blindsided, he opened his mouth to respond, but found himself frozen in shock. His silence was answer enough. Steeling herself, she dried the despicable traces of sorrow and slipped expeditiously from the kitchen.

He'd only ever seen her cry once before in all the years they'd known each other. Tony's mind reeled, attempting to process the scene still replaying through the lens of his subconscious. In the silence, every corner seemed haunted with recollections - accusations. He sucked in a shaky breath. She couldn't possibly think he… _Oh, God._

Tony stumbled up the stairs in the darkness. He bit his tongue as his foot collided with the metal banister leading to the second floor. Blood pounded in his ears as he tapped open the door to their room. A sharp gasp filled his ears.

"Ziva?" he heard himself question tentatively, as he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder in comfort. She leapt back, like his touch had seared her skin. A look of unadulterated fear subjected her features.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, enraged, desperate pain saturating her voice, constricting her throat.

Then, as if all the energy, her very life, had been drained from her, "Why can you not leave in peace, Tony? Have I not suffered enough for you?"

Helplessly, guiltily, he watched her deep chocolate eyes absorbed the hollowness from her words. Tony hadn't seen that expression overtake her features since - Somalia. Horrifying realization slammed into him, knocked the breath from his lungs accompanying her questions, as his mind pieced the evidence together. When he finally spoke again, his voice was tight with barely contained rage.

"What did they do to you?" In an instant, he was staring into dull, dead eyes that sent wrath and sorrow boiling through his vanes, and he knew where she was.

"No," Ziva shook her head. "You will hate me."

"_What_? I could never hate you!"

"You will hate me if you know how disgusting I am. What I have done."

"Ziva, what is so horrible that you can't let me see?" Her expression hardened, eyes flashing in a sudden anger as she ground the words out.

"I got raped. So what?"

He couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"'_So what'? _That's way more than 'so what'!"

"He is dead. They are all dead. There is nothing you can do. It does not matter." Her tone plummeted to a low whisper, gaze cast to the floor. "I deserved it." Stunned, he opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. What on earth would make her think she was responsible for getting raped, or worse, that she deserved it? "Do you know what it feels like to never be able to get clean, no matter how hard you try? To have this filth seep into you until you want to rip your own skin off to escape it? It is like jumping into the ocean in the middle of winter. How it is so cold, it makes your bones ache. And then, after a while, you simply get numb."

"You're not- You're not dirty. Zi, it wasn't your fault."

"Do you have any idea how many men have used my body?" Every syllable dripped with self-disgust and animosity. "After a while, I gave up fighting. Even began encouraging them just so it would end faster."

Unable to say any more, Ziva let Tony take her into his arms as sobs racked her body, and hid her face in the crook of his neck, tears staining his shirt.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry about disappearing off the face of the earth for months at a time. I've been promised I'll stop continent-hopping (for now at least) so updates will come much faster. Please tell me what you think.

~Amara


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